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Every week I like to feature a few frugal articles that caught my eyes. Curl up in your favorite reading nook and enjoy. Hopefully these encourage you to live frugal lives!

Overpopulation, Overconsumption — in pictures via The Guardian
In this breathtaking and heart-wrenching group of photos, The Guardian has captured the cost of capitalism. From overproduced lands to trash in the guts of animals, our lifestyles have major consequences. The photographers of this series have captured the essence of our problem of overconsumption. Now, what should we do about it?

Stuff it: Millennials nix their parents’ treasures by Jura Koncius
This story cracked me up, because it’s totally true for me. With my more minimalist lifestyle and household, I can’t envision taking on all the material goods of my parents and grandparents. Sorry, mah! 🙂

These Debt Strikers Are Refusing to Pay Their Student Loans by Bill Kilby
For-profit colleges are one of the nastiest developments in recent educational history. They suck the life out of their students, over-promise/under-deliver, and sack their graduates with atmospheric levels of debt. Finally, a group of students from a for-profit collegiate system is saying “no.” They’re not paying their debts. And, frankly, all the power to them!

For richer or poorer: The challenges of marrying outside your class by Jessi Streib
Rising income and wealth inequality has some painful unintended consequences for couples. What happens when two people fall in love — one person from wealth and the other from poverty? The economics of marriage and coupling have never been more potent. This article is an important, critical view at these divided times.

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Let’s start with my monthly salary

I get paid $1545 after taxes on the 1st of every month. That’s my salary for working at the university, and being a graduate teaching assistant. Over 12 months that comes out to about $18,540.

For a single person, that places me about $7,000 above the federal poverty line of $11,490. You’d think I live a pretty comfortable, financially solvent life. And for the most part, I do.

I’m not in poverty. I never go hungry for long. I’m afforded incredible learning and writing opportunities. I can pay for shelter without any concerns. I’m lucky not to have any dependents or pets. I’m not on the brink of losing this consistency of life.

A tight monthly budget, but positive

Here’s what my monthly budget looks like:

Paycheck: $1,545 per month

Rent: -$550 (Housing in Iowa City is surprisingly expensive. This price bundles Internet/Cable, as well).Utilities: -$50 (Varies month-to-month, but on average…).Student fees/tuition: -$346 ($1251 per semester (x2), and then summer tuition (not covered) at $1650 for 3 credits — all divided by 12).Food: -$400 (working to lower this, but in the past…)Gas: -$5 (I don’t drive, but occasionally I give friends money to carpool with them)Total costs: $1,351 per month

Partial budget: $194 per month

Notice that within this budget, entertainment, travel, and car expenses are not present. It’s difficult to approximate how much I spend on entertainment (going out to movies, playing pool, or bowling), but I’d say it averages about $10-20 per month.

Because I sold my car, I no longer have registration, titling, gas, insurance, maintenance, or car loan payments. Although, flights still happen and those cost about $300-400 round-trip. I fly about once or twice a year nowadays. Conservatively, that’s about $600 per year, or $50 per month. Subtracting these costs, and the following is my total budget:

Total budget: $124 per month.

If I stay within this budget and repeat it monthly, I can save about $1,488 per year. But that’s only if there are no other fees, expenses, or emergencies. For instance, my computer is hugely important to my business, job, and schooling; if that were to fail, I’d be in deep trouble. A single incident could wipe away my savings for a year.

Photo: Kevin Dooley/flickr

Settling into the low-income lifestyle

While I might not be in poverty, I lead a low-income lifestyle with little room for error. Now that I’m no longer in massive student loan debt, my monthly budgets are real and accurate — not manipulated artificially by financial aid. When I run out of money, it’s gone — there’s no reserve ready.

As I paid off my student loans and stopped withdrawing additional credit, I developed and settled into a low-income lifestyle. It’s one without exotic vacations, weekend getaways, cars, fancy dinners out, and the latest gadgets.

Now, I hold onto things longer, avoid purchases, and cook at home whenever possible. But it took me a while to adjust down — to slow down, really. I’ve said this before, but debt fostered an illusion of success that I felt compelled to uphold and continue. I wanted to show people that I could “afford” to treat, spend, and enjoy. Unfortunately, it was all a mirage. I was swimming in debt and stress.

Reflecting on the pros and cons

Pros

1. No more debt (or very little)

I no longer take out student loans to cushion my budget. Every month I do have revolving credit from regular purchases, but my balance is paid in full each statement period.

2. Support from family and friends, community

People check in with me more than ever about how I’m doing with my financial goals. Additionally, friends have increasingly begun to ask questions about how they, too, can save.

3. Greater exercise

Now that I sold my car, I take buses, walk, and/or ride my bike. Altogether, I’m getting way more exercise over owning and driving a car.

4. Empathy for lower-income and impoverished populations

Living closer to poverty and working with the homeless population has been an interesting combination. While I have great educational privilege, I do not have any income to show for these “achievements.” For now, this lack of money has helped me try to empathize with those less fortunate than I.

5. Reduced environmental impact

Despite America’s capitalistic ideals, we are doing the planet great harm with our consumption. Without any money or vehicle, I’ve drastically reduced my environmental contribution to greenhouse gases.

6. Eat healthier

To stay within my food budgets — and reduce them even further — I’ve been making more food at home and avoiding fast food alternatives.

7. Provides motivation for stories, articles

Living this low-income lifestyle provides great fodder for stories and reflection. Simply put, I learn every day from it. Comfort can sometimes make us complacent and inure us from others’ struggles. Stripping away income has provided deep insight into income problems in America.

8. Increased appreciation for what I do have

For everything I must sacrifice with my tight budget, there’s far more that I have, which I’m deeply grateful for. From health of friends, family, and myself to comfortable shelter, I am privileged.

Cons

1. Restricted travel

I used to travel all over the country. I loved seeing new places, eating different foods, and meeting new people. Instead, I’m mostly here in Iowa City. Traveling is too expensive — other than to see family a couple times per year.

2. Less time with family

I’ve added hours at work to receive more income. Between that additional time and aforementioned restricted travel, I don’t get to see my family as much as I’d like.

3. Awkward date conversations

While I’ve grown to embrace my low-income lifestyle, I can’t afford to go out with people too frequently. When I go out on dates, I’ve noticed that gender norms about who treats still seem to hold strong — the man is expected to step up.

4. Susceptible to emergencies/unexpected costs

If my computer stopped functioning or I had an injury, I may lose the budget surplus. This precarious balance threatens all my financial goals.

5. Psychological toll and nervousness

Being at this level of income takes a psychological toll. I’m working a large number of hours each week for relatively little pay. That’s stressful.

6. Society doesn’t seem to understand

Graduate students made great progress over the last few decades to have their educations paid for through assistantships and fellowships. But skyrocketing tuition has held back graduate funding. State and federal funding has consistently been in jeopardy.

7. Guilt when overspending

When I do spend money outside of the budgeted amounts, I feel tremendous worry and guilt. This emotional reaction sometimes stems the tide of purchases, but also makes me wish for days of financial security.

8. Tiring, test of willpower

Last, but certainly not least, it can be tiring. Following this strict of a budget takes an immense amount of willpower. Unfortunately, willpower is deeply tied to energy levels. With less energy, willpower tends to decline, as well.

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My Amazon Kindle is broken…

From drooling wimp to reading aficionado

I don’t think I read one required book cover-to-cover in all of high school (sorry, teachers!). I didn’t enjoy reading, much to my mom’s dismay. Spark and Cliff notes eliminated the “need” to dig through the deeper meanings with tomes like Homer’s The Odyssey. I skated through high school, inspired by my brief overviews and a charismatic charm that filled in the missing plot gaps. It mostly worked.

In college, reading for enjoyment actually clicked. My grades improved and I found extra time to catch up on what I had missed. There was a simple equation: Read more to write better. Suddenly this drool-inducing, boredom-ensuing activity became relaxing and rewarding. I saw the value of it all.

A 21st century device for an age-old pastime

The transition from book avoider to avid reader was cemented by the purchase of an Amazon Kindle in college. As a nerd, geek, and all-around techie, the Kindle was the perfect blend of generations – reading power in the 21st century. When the slimmer, sleeker 3rd generation device launched, I purchased one immediately. It’s been with me ever since.

From Costa Rica to New York City, it was always with me. I chucked it onto the kitchen table, stuffed it into my backpack, and spilled a glass of orange juice into the keys. Frankly, I treated it like another paper-based book. Despite my harassment, the Kindle followed suit and kept up with my travels. Now, around four years of age (about 40 in tech years), I regret to inform you that it’s died.

When I got to school today, it refused to turn on. I followed a number of troubleshooting guides, too – no luck. There was nothing I could do, as the screen simply wouldn’t wake up or change pictures.

This shouldn’t be my gut reaction…

You might wonder why I’m writing about an inanimate object, when I aspire and espouse for a minimalist and anti-materialist lifestyle. Thanks for keeping me honest, readers! The real reason is that the loss of one object often begets a question: What’s next?

What should I get? What will be a frugal upgrade? Should I even buy another? How about a tablet, instead? What’s my price range?

Despite the eulogy, it’s felt more like an inconvenience on the way to an upgrade – another lifestyle inflation. The rapid replaceability swept the feelings of loss quickly under the rug. As I work to right my budgetary problems, this seems like room for error. The immediate reaction to buy another something – better and possibly more expensive – speaks to a disrespect for the exchange of money.

In the past, my gut reaction would be to purchase that next new device. Instead, I’m going to wait and make a frugal, informed decision that feeds my desire to read and fuels my budget. That is what’s next for me.

When you break something, what’s your gut reaction? Have you ever immediately purchased a new item to replace the broken? Or, do you take time before buying another?

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This is the purchase paradox and a nice, new Audi. Photo: NRMA/flickr

Despite aspiring to a new, more frugal life since May, I was looking at used car prices for newer models. Nothing is wrong with my older Honda Civic, but something was stirring inside me; at times, an inescapable and indescribable animalistic desire for more (even if I cannot afford it).

Something shook me from my ogling – a realization. We want what we cannot have. When we have what we desired, we no longer crave it. This phenomenon is the purchase paradox.

It’s in the perpetual want and desire that we maintain our spending – a hamster wheel that is hard to depart. I could simply blame advertisers for causing and creating this false demand. I could point out how our capitalistic system encourages it. But there’s a fundamental human need to perpetuate this paradox.

Seemingly, it is nature to crave what we cannot have and lose attraction to that which becomes ours. We buy a fashionable coat, thinking it’s needed, craved, and desired. Purchased, owned, held, and it’s merely another accoutrement filling your burgeoning closet with stuff. The superfluous is only found after it’s written, purchased, and owned.

We adjust to a lifestyle. Buy the luxuries, feel the thrills, but eventually it fades. Objects cannot be more than fascination for long. They melt and meld into our identities and lives – defining a new normal and looking for the next fix. Bigger, better, fuller, fancier – the search continues.

Flirting with temptation and desire can motivate poor decisions and spending, but it fuels us – fundamentally. I cannot escape my desires every time, but I learn from each. We are walking paradoxes, spending like there’s no tomorrow, while recognizing that our days are numbered.